


The third rebirth

by spiteful_crow



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Sacrifice, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiteful_crow/pseuds/spiteful_crow
Summary: After the final battle, only one of them lived.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A long one-shot, which was a prologue to a RP I had with a friend of mine. It can be read as a standalone too though, so I'm sharing it here.

Guts’s last words had him freeze, and he could only watch Guts’ hand slide from his grasp. It was the second time, he realised in the back of his mind, even if no coherent thought would linger there anymore. When he was brought to the altar, he let go of it too - _too_ weak to hold the weight of the man any longer. He was not weak now, but the weight was unbearable nevertheless.

His face was calm now - the urgency and horror like washed away. He was still watching the one who was now stilled forever. He watched, and hoped the man was just sleeping, too tired of battles, too exhausted by the blood loss, unconscious because of the presence of Griffith so close next to him. Somehow, he could not stop watching Guts’ face, while avoiding to look at the rest of the man’s demolished body. It was unbearable _too_.

He shouldn’t have felt like this now. A thought crossed his mind that Casca was still alive, and maybe her death was required too for his heart to freeze again, but he brushed it off instantly. She could not have been the one holding him back, now that he got rid of the child. 

Time passed, and he did not move from his spot. The skies were dark now, and the thunders were closer. Soon, he felt the first drop of rain on his skin. 

The rain washed away the blood from Guts’ face, but its audacity angered Griffith, and he ripped a piece of cloth from his cloak to cover the man's features. His hand began shaking again, as he could not see Guts’ face anymore, and he covered own eyes with both hands. The cloth was not rising - a man living would not simply tolerate a cloth over his face, and not breathe. Guts was gone, and so was his soul, having become one with those _cursed_. There was nothing left of Guts now. Not in this world, and not in any other.

_What had he done?_

The thought was too unbearable to be true, and yet it was no nightmare. No tears would come out of his eyes to soothe the burning pain in his chest which slowly drove him insane. He grew restless, but his legs would not move.

_What had he done?_

Could he undo this? Could he make it not matter? He only wanted Guts alive. Gasping for breath, he tore the cloth away from Guts’ face, letting it rain on him again. How dare it rain on him like this, as if he was no more than the dirt on the ground? Soon, he was to become it.

Breathing alone was painful. His heart was beating rapidly, and every breath burned in his chest like acid. He turned his gaze towards the sky, letting the rain cover his face as well, knowing no tears would join it. At least the rain felt like tears against his skin, even if cold.

Back then, they had come to save him, so where were they now? Was there no one left to put an end to his pain? Not even death? Was he to live like this for the eternity that awaited him? He could not bear the thought of getting up, and walking away, and leaving Guts there. If only he could trade Guts’ life for his own - a thought frightening, but finally clear in his mind.

A shimmer caught his eyes - the moonlight reflected on a smooth surface. Not a step away, his sword was lying on the ground. Maybe it was not useless, after all. He reached for it and packed it by the blade, cutting his fingers. As he sensed the sharp pain, he tightened his grasp, until he felt the icy cold metal against the bones of his hand. The smell of fresh blood was comforting, and he drew the sword closer, observing the red stains on the steel.

A look at his injured palm filled him with anticipation. Maybe he could finally take this step. Maybe he could become one with _them_ too. With both hands, the held the tip of the blade against his throat. Maybe it was enough to end him there - a thought unrealistic, but hopeful.

However, before he found out the answer, he leaned down to have a last look at the man on his side. He had never seen Guts' features this peaceful before, and he **hated** it. With a blooded hand, he cupped Guts' face, running a thumb over the man's  breathless lips. Then he brought they faces together - closer than ever, looking at the dead eyes of a man once so vibrant one last time. With a tortured smile, resembling a grimace, he closed his eyes and rested there for what felt like hours. There was no point in talking to someone, who could not hear him, so he remained silent.

Having gathered the strength needed, he sat up once again, and grabbed the blade. If there was some mercy left for him, he would join Guts and the Band very soon. There was nothing he wanted more now. Holding the sword firm in both hands, he slowly began descending over it with the hope it would piece him. But a mocking voice interrupted.

" There is no point in trying to escape in this cowardly way. You made a choice long ago. Do you believe you can simply escape it? "

 


	2. Chapter 2

He knew this voice - coarse, always taunting, but also seeming to grasp the situation better than anyone. He was so lost in his hopes of finally finding peace, that he had not heard them approach. Slowly, he put the blade down, but did not turn back to face them. Blood was running from his fingers, and the falling rain burned on the torn skin.

" What did you come here for? " he whispered. If they had come to scold him, or worse - gloat, then he had no patience left to listen.  
" The one you believed in, the one you placed all your hopes in, turned out to be nothing but a disappointment to you. **That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?**  " he smiled bitterly.  He thought they should have been aware since the beginning. After all, nothing had changed, he was still the same pitiful man, so how did they _miss it_?

Yet they remained silent. Slowly, the pitiful figure found the strength to get up, even if reeling. He kept on watching the dead body in his feet, and he realised that on this day the world lost its meaning. The holy city which challenged the skies, and the thousands of citizens who worshipped him like a God, had stopped mattering. He’d been chosen to lead humanity to safety, or death, but in this moment, he was indifferent to whatever happened to it.

" Is this how you feel? " the voice spoke again, the mocking undertone still present. His gaze wandered through the blackness before him, blurred by the rain in his eyes. _Yes..._ he thought. _There is nothing left for me here...I destroyed it myself._

 _  
_ " Why did you come? " he whispered again. He’d failed Falconia already. He’d failed it from the start, since the very day of his rebirth, but he had kept feeding himself illusions. 

_My dream has always been stronger than me. Why am I realising it only now? After all I have done to fulfil it, the demise of a single man is enough to destroy it. It’s me, who has been the weak link all along._

The voice chuckled as his gaze brushed over the dead body once again. Every glimpse at him filled Griffith’s heart with enough sorrow to make it burst. Oh, how he hoped this all was a hallucination, or a dream, and Guts would open his eyes soon, and then filled with hatred and rage, he would yell Griffith's name. However, Guts kept lying there instead, at the mercy of the rain, soon to become one with the dirt.

He collapsed on the ground once again and gasped for breath, but the blessing of tears was denied to him. This had to end somehow. " End this. " his voice was breaking and trembling, as desperation was slowly taking over the once prideful man.

" Put an end to this. " he glared at her, but her features remained calm and slightly amused. 

  
" We can do nothing to help you now. " The other three said nothing. Griffith turned them his back again, gaze searching to meet the dead eyes of the man so crucial to his existence.

It was the hell he deserved. Crouched over Guts’ torso, feeling the armour against the skin of his face, Griffith lay there. He did not think he could get up again. _Why could he not cry, when his heart was slowly torn into pieces_? A pained howl escaped his lips, drowned by a thunder.

_Forgive me. Forgive me for failing you. Forgive me for making you hurt. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to undo this. Even if it meant setting you free, even if it meant paying with my own life._

Slow steps approached him, yet he paid no attention to them any longer. For a reason he did not care to question, she was standing beside him now, watching him from above like Gods watched the mortals. He hoped the view satisfied her.

" But you can. " she spoke silently.  " If there is nothing you wouldn't do to have this man back, then you can help _yourself_. Only you can. This...still belongs to you. "

With the corner of his eye, he saw her reach her hand towards him. Exhausted, he turned his head, and looked at an object more familiar to him than even his dream. It had been his loyal companion from the beginning of his journey. Red like the blood running down his arm as he reached to grasp it. A face with all its features in a wrong order, but a blue eye staring at him, and resonating with him as if it was the only being who knew and understood. He rushed to take it into his bleeding hand, and held to it _desperately_ , as the face suddenly began to change.

Once again, it cried for him, the bloody tears dripping on Griffith’s own face. It felt soothing. But what did this mean? What did they want from him? He looked at her, the question written all over his features.

" The one thing you’ve longed for since the beginning. The one thing, that used to define you. Your dream. "

Without having taken a notice, all four had gathered around him, and he sat up, eyes glued on the weeping Behelit.

" You can’t mean... "

  
" Their lives. The souls of the last humans - of those who trust you, and worship you. All of them. Only then you can have him back. You can have your feathers back too, fallen Hawk. In a world, where none of this matters, while _this one_ falls into our grasp. However, if this is the path you choose to take... then your dream will perish along with your blessing. "

She knelt down before him, cupping his face, and her lips were almost touching his as she continued:

" All you have ever wanted will _vanish_. Would you embrace mortality for the sake of one man? You, who detests being ordinary so much... would you give up on those things that define you, for his sake? Even if you can’t make him stay? How deep have you fallen, Chosen One? "

The words startled him and he could not answer immediately. Glancing at the hill, as his thoughts rushed through his mind. Thousands - thousands, who had suffered, and had finally found shelter under his wings. What about Sonia? Charlotte? Mule? Wouldn't even the Apostles would despise him, if he offered these humans for the slaughter, only to save one single man? Had this been the plan all along? Had he never truly held the strings in his hands?

_Were his never perishing feelings a part of the plan too?_

Humanity had been doomed from the start. It depended on him to refuse, and to cross their schemes, but a last look at Guts took away all resolve he had to do so. What did they matter, if _he_ was dead? Griffith's heart was filled with disgust for himself for considering it, but he could not help wanting it. From the first time his eyes met Guts', until this very day, this man had stolen into Griffith's soul to a point he could not refuse her offer to throw away everythingfor his sake.

Were all these years in vain?

" You have always wanted this outcome. " he muttered. Deep inside, he’d known all along, but admitting it meant admitting, that everything he’d ever done had been pointless. Fingers reached to touch Guts’ cold cheek and lingered there. The first time Griffith touched him on that sunny meadow so many years ago, his cheeks were set on fire by their fight. Only Griffith could breathe life into Guts now.  
" Then have your way. " he’d rather destroy the world, than accept Guts lying there dead.

With eyes filled with terror, he glanced at the hill once again. He could not see the palace from here, but he could imagine everything vividly. The streets, the children playing. Charlotte chatting with Anna. Sonia reading a book. Always filled with laughter, no grief had place behind Falconia’s walls. It was a true paradise he had created - where man and beast could live along, and fight for a common purpose. There had never been a place so secure and filled with happiness, and creating this place had been everything he’d wished for.

Until he _lost him_.

 **" I sacrifice them. "** he words were spoken silently, but he knew they heard them. His hand moved to grasp Guts’ prosthetic one, and his vision blackened.


End file.
